Chapter 108
Chapter 108
“You two know each other?” Julian’s voice cuts through the shock, high–pitched with confusion.
Wade doesn’t take his eyes off me. “We… have history p>
That’s putting it mildly.
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He reaches down, offering me a hand. I take it automatically, letting him pull me to my feet while my brain tries to catch up with reality.
“Julian,” Wade says, still looking at me, “why don’t you take care of the bill for the broken glasses? I’ll handle things here p>
“But the meeting p>
“I think Ms. Clarke and I need a moment to catch up first.” His voice carries that Alpha edge that makes people obey without question. “We’ll call you when we’re ready p>
Julian hesitates, looking between us, before finally nodding. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll just… be at the bar p>
He leaves, and suddenly it’s just me and Wade and three years of unfinished business hanging in the air like smoke.
“Sit,” Wade says gently, gesturing to the table.
I sit.
He sits across from me, and for a moment, we just stare at each other.
“I was right,” he says finally, a small smile playing at his lips. “It was you p>
“What p>
“The paintings. S. Nocturne.” He leans back, studying me. “I recognized your style. The way you layer colors, the emotional intensity. But I couldn’t be sure because…” He trails off. “Because the Imperial Pack announced you were dead p>
The word dead hits like a physical blow.
He thinks I’m dead. They all think I’m dead.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “In New York? Meeting with me p>
“I could ask you the same thing.” His expression shifts, becomes more serious. “The whole pack mourned you, Sorin. Alaric-” He stops himself. “What happened? Why did you run p>
“I had
my
reasons p>
“Good enough to fake your death p>
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Chapter 108
“Yes p>
The conviction in my voice makes him flinch.
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down like gravity.
“I won’t say anything,” Wade says finally. “To anyone. Your secret is safe with me p>
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“Why?” I search his face for answers. “Why would you keep this from the Imperial Pack? From Alaric p>
“Because I know what it’s like to run from something you can’t live with.” His voice is quiet, heavy with old grief. “And because you were my friend before you were anything else. I won’t betray that p>
Something in my chest loosens.
“Thank you p>
Another pause, and then I can’t help myself.
“How is he?” The question escapes before I can stop it. “Alaric p>
Wade’s expression darkens. “You really want to know p>
No. Yes. I don’t know.
“Yes p>
He takes a breath. “He hasn’t attended a single Council meeting in three years. No one’s seen him outside the Imperial Pack territory. Beta Cole is running everything–the pack, the alliances, all of it. Alaric’s just…. disappeared p>
The guilt crashes over me like a wave.
Three years.
He’s been mourning me for three years.
“Cole says he’s alive,” Wade continues. “Still functioning, technically. But he’s not the same. The Alpha King is gone, Sorin. There’s just a man left behind p>
I press my hand to my mouth, trying to hold back the sob building in my throat.
“I didn’t mean-” My voice breaks. “I didn’t want p>
“I know.” Wade reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “I know p>
We sit like that for a moment, connected by old bonds and shared grief.
Finally, Wade pulls back and clears his throat. “Enough heavy shit. Tell me what you’ve been doing. Besides creating incredible art and apparently living in New York p>
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Chapter 108
“Sorry for what p>
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“For everything. The mate bond mess, the pack politics, all of it.” He shrugs. “We’ve talked about you. She feels guilty p>
“She shouldn’t.” And surprisingly, I mean it. The hatred I used to feel for Ariel has faded into something more like indifference. “It worked out how it was supposed to p>
Wade studies me for a moment, then his expression shifts into something more businesslike.
“Alright, S. Nocturne. Let’s talk business p>
Oh. Right. This is technically still a client meeting.
“I have a proposal for you,” Wade continues. “I’m part of a collective–wealthy wolves and select humans who invest in supernatural art. We hold private auctions twice a year. Very exclusive, very lucrative p>
My heart starts pounding. “How lucrative p>
“Your paintings could easily sell for six figures. Maybe seven, depending on the piece and the buyer.” He leans forward. “I can get you in. Get your work in front of people with actual money who appreciate talent p>
Seven figures.
Holy shit.
“When’s the next auction p>
“Two months. I’d need at least three pieces from you. Completed, framed, ready to sell p>
“I can do that.” The words come out before I even think about it. “Yes. Absolutely yes p>
Wade grins. “Good. I’ll send you the details–location, requirements, all of it. This could change everything for you, Sorin p>
“I know p>
We finish the meeting discussing logistics, contracts, percentages. All very professional, all very normal.
But underneath it all, I can feel the weight of what we’re both not saying.
That I’m alive.
That Alaric is broken.
That I have his son.
That everything is so much more complicated than either of us can address in a public restaurant.
I practically float home, high on possibility and hope and the kind of optimism I haven’t felt in three years.
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The apartment is quiet when I enter. Tessa’s shift must have run late, and the babysitter–Mrs. Chen from upstairs – is asleep on the couch while Aedion sleeps in his little bed in the corner.
I pay Mrs. Chen, thank her quietly, and then kneel beside Aedion’s bed.
He’s sprawled out like a starfish, one arm hanging off the edge, mouth slightly open. His dark hair is a mess, and in sleep, he looks so much like Alaric it physically hurts.
“Hey, baby,” I whisper, brushing hair off his forehead. “Mama’s home p>
He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.
“We’re gonna be okay,” I tell him softly. “Better than okay. We’re going to have money and stability and everything I’ve been trying to build for us. I’m going to finish those paintings, and they’re going to sell for so much money you won’t have to worry about anything. Ever p>
My phone buzzes.
A text from Wade with an address and date.
The auction is November 15th. Location: The Apex Gallery, Manhattan. Bring your best work. This is going to be huge.
I look around the apartment–at the canvases stacked against walls, at the paints and brushes scattered across my makeshift workspace, at the life I’ve built from nothing.
“We’re going to finish all of these soon, baby p>
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